


Thanks to Dorian

by InvictaAnimi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Candlelight, Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Drinking Games, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurricanes & Typhoons, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 08:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20468183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvictaAnimi/pseuds/InvictaAnimi
Summary: “Since we’re going to be stuck here for a while, we might as well have some fun.”Dean looks up from his seat on the couch to see what Cas is up to. His brother’s roommate is leaning in the doorway holding a bottle of Bulleit bourbon in one hand and rocks glasses in the other. The lopsided tilt of his lips and the arch of a raised brow call to Dean’s adventurous and mischievous streak.“How can I refuse such awesome hospitality,” Dean teases, scooting over to allow Cas to sit next to him.ORHow it takes a literal act of god to get these two out of their own way.





	Thanks to Dorian

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Dear Readers!
> 
> In the midst of hurricane preparations, this little idea popped into my head and I had to write it. This is just a bit of fun. Dirty, raunchy fun, but...fun nonetheless. 
> 
> I've been stressed about the storm, so I wrote this as catharsis. I had to make SOME good come out of this situation, even if it is fiction.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

“Since we’re going to be stuck here for a while, we might as well have some fun.” 

Dean looks up from his seat on the couch to see what Cas is up to. His brother’s roommate is leaning in the doorway holding a small bottle of Bulleit bourbon in one hand and rocks glasses in the other. The lop-sided tilt of his lips and the arch of a raised brow call to Dean’s adventurous and mischievous streak. 

“How can I refuse such awesome hospitality,” Dean teases, scooting over to allow Cas to sit next to him. 

As Cas lands on the couch and cracks opens the seal on the bottle, Dean can’t help but observe him. Even in the ratty blue Om symbol t-shirt and loose gray track pants, he is the sexiest thing Dean has ever seen. He’s had a little crush on the man since the day he helped Sam move in. 

Cas had come in from a run while Dean was maneuvering Sam’s bed into his room, and he couldn’t pull his eyes away. Sweat dripping down his neck and collecting in the hollow of his throat, Cas had apologized for not being there when they arrived and then introduced himself to Dean. When they shook hands, Dean’s knees almost gave out. The heat from his hand had scalded him; the strength of his grip giving Dean filthy ideas of what Cas would be like if he ever got his hands on him for real. 

Licking his lips, Dean takes the glass Cas offers and repeats the toast of “Sláinte”. 

Cas watches the bob of Dean’s throat as he swallows. He shouldn’t be thinking such lewd thoughts about him, but damn. Dean is walking sex. Thick and gruff, stacked muscle paired with a deep voice. Add the beauty of his long-lashed anime eyes and porn-worthy lips? He’s Cas’s ideal. He’s never acted on his desires because his roommate is close to his brother and he doesn’t want things to be weird. 

Plus, whenever they’ve hung out, Sam has always been there. Not today, though. Sam got caught over at his girlfriend’s house when the winds picked up overnight, and now conditions are too dangerous to drive in. Dorian is upon them, and he and Dean are riding out the storm together. Alone. 

“We should play a drinking game,” Cas suggests and nods at the TV where the ominous swirl of the hundreds of miles wide storm replays on a continuous loop. 

Dean grins. “Absolutely. What are the rules?” 

Cas bites his lip in consideration and Dean almost chokes on the sip he’s taking. 

“Let’s each pick a phrase and whenever it’s said, we have to drink.” 

Chuckling, Dean agrees. “Okay, but we should pick for each other.” 

“Sure, that’s only fair.” 

Dean narrows his gaze on Cas, and if his eyes drift to his lips more than once, he’s only human. 

“Your phrase is ‘storm surge’,” Dean pronounces, eyes twinkling with delight. 

“Fucker,” Cas answers. “I’m going to be shitfaced before dinner.” 

“That is the idea, isn’t it?” 

Cas hums disapproval and turns on the couch to face Dean. His knee brushes the side of his denim-covered ass, but he can’t bring himself to move away. “Since you went for my jugular, your phrase is ‘evacuation route’.” 

Dean’s mouth drops open to protest, but words won’t come. There’s interest in Cas’s eyes that Dean hasn’t seen there before. Or maybe he hasn’t let himself acknowledge it until now. Either way, the effect of the way Cas is devouring him sends a sharp ache to his groin. 

If he wants to keep his relationship with Cas platonic, day drinking when they are alone and stuck in this apartment for the foreseeable future is not a good idea. Dean’s never been known for his calm logic, though, and Cas is a fucking loose canon on his best day. 

“We should also both drink if they show a reporter on the beach,” Cas grins maniacally. 

Dean leans in, already caught in his orbit. “Or if they show the spaghetti models.” 

“Now that’s just alcohol poisoning waiting to happen. They show them every two minutes,” Cas protests emphatically. 

“Alright, alright,” Dean chuckles. “You pick one then.” 

“If they show palm trees blowing in the wind, we both drink.” 

Rules established; Dean turns up the volume on the TV. They watch for a few minutes before Cas speaks. 

“I’m sorry your visit is being ruined by the storm.” 

Dean’s eyes roam over his face. “I didn’t expect to spend Labor Day hiding from weather, but it’s far from ruined.” 

Not entirely sure how he should take Dean’s confession, he quirks a smile. Just then, the anchorman asks an on-site reporter for an update on evacuation routes. Cas points at Dean excitedly and proclaims, “Drink!” 

Dean complies, letting the burn of the whiskey slide down his throat. Not even a full minute later, they discuss predictions for storm surge. Dean winks at Cas when he pulls a face from the bite of the strong liquor. 

They trade shots, almost one for one over the next hour. Dean prays for long commercial breaks to give them respite. Unfortunately, the next segment of the news starts with a reporter standing on the beach with palm tress blowing wildly behind him. 

“Shit. I guess that’s a double for both of us.” His words are softly slurred as he empties the last of the bottle equally into their glasses. 

Cas’s skin is charmingly flushed over his cheeks and down his neck. The color makes the hue of his eyes more pronounced, and Dean can’t get enough of them. Whenever he turns to say something to Cas, he gets caught by their beauty, a crystal pale ringed by deep royal. 

They down their shots, easy and smooth now, without taking their eyes from each other. There is electricity sparking in the air, and Dean knows it doesn’t have anything to do with the barometric pressure. 

Cas licks away a stray drop and sets his glass down. He looks up when he hears Dean exhale sharply. Lust is evident in his wide eyes and the tension in his jaw. Cas stands quickly, making the excuse, “We’re out of whiskey; I’m going to grab some beer.” 

When he opens the refrigerator, he closes his eyes and lets the cold wash over his overheated skin. “Fuck,” he groans. His inhibitions have never been many, but they are dangling in tatters at the moment. Resisting the temptation of Dean Winchester is proving near impossible. 

He is longing to taste the whiskey still fresh on Dean's plump lips as he slides down to straddle his lap. Dean has stayed here many times when visiting Sam, so Cas has seen him in various states of undress. From those brief glimpses, he has stitched together what he thinks is a good idea of Dean’s size, and he is finding the need to know for sure almost all-consuming. 

Calming himself with deep breathing, he grabs two bottles and heads back into the fray. Fuck. Dean is down to his t-shirt and low-slung faded jeans. His bare feet are crossed on top of the ottoman, and his arm is splayed over the back of the couch. Everything about his posture screams, “Come to me,” and Cas really wants to obey. 

Instead, he mutes the TV and chooses a playlist on his phone. The first song in the queue is _Rock You Like a Hurricane_. With the first few chords, Dean recognizes the song and throws his head back in loud, joyous laughter. 

“Too much?” Cas questions sly and irreverent. 

“No, man. That’s perfect,” he says as he wipes the tears from his eyes. 

Cas beams at Dean’s reaction. “Good, because I have a whole themed playlist.” 

That makes Dean laugh even more. When the music switches to _I’m Only Happy When It Rains_, Dean mentions, “We can’t keep playing our game if we can’t hear them.” 

“Do you really think we need any more impetus to drink?” 

Dean nods and takes a swig of his beer. Cas makes a good point. 

“Besides, we can still do the visual ones.” 

“Like that?” Dean nods at the screen, where they are showing palm trees in the Bahamas being blown perpendicular to the ground. They both take a long pull from their beer. 

Over the music, they can hear the wind whipping wildly at the metal shutters covering the windows. Rain is pounding the roof, and the crack of thunder adds some base to the melody. Rather than adding a somber tone to the afternoon, the chaotic weather makes Dean feel reckless. 

He scoots closer to Cas to set his empty bottle down. He can tell that the other man is frozen, lips barely parted and waiting for Dean to make a decision. Up close, Cas is even more beautiful. His scent makes Dean’s mouth water; something masculine and clean mixed with honey to sweeten its edges. 

Before Dean can lean in even a millimeter closer, a loud clap of thunder precedes the lights going out. Sitting in the pitch blackness of a world without electricity, Dean curses. 

“Oh, don’t move. I planned ahead.” Cas sounds extremely proud of himself, so Dean patiently waits for him to fumble in the dark. He hears a drawer open on the coffee table and the distinctive flick of a lighter flint. A golden flame flares to life, lighting up Cas’s features as he lights a tall glass candle. 

One by one, Cas lights the candles and sets them on the table. Dean takes a couple into other rooms so that they can make their way through the apartment. 

“Are you religious?” Dean asks when he returns. He’s carrying two more beers and hands one over to Cas. 

“What?” 

Dean points to the candles in explanation. Cas had bought out all the veladora candles at the grocery store because they were self-contained. He hadn’t really focused on the pictures of Jesus and Mary on the outside. 

Cas grins. “No, but I did go to Catholic school.” 

Picturing Cas as an innocent altar boy, begging to be educated by an older man, has his cock twitching in interest. Dean takes a deep, calming breath. If Cas hits any more of his kinks, he’s likely to snap and lose all control of himself. 

“You like that idea, don’t you, Dean?” 

The warning look he receives is quite sexy, commanding and expected to be obeyed. Hot damn. Dean is, at the very least, attracted to him. 

“Since our other game is out, how about we play a different one?” All of the liquid courage Cas has consumed is loosening his grip on responsible decisions. He loves the responses to his flirting that he is getting from Dean right now, and he doesn’t plan on stopping. A fact he puts a period on by tipping up his beer bottle and taking a healthy swig. 

“That depends on the game.” 

“Two truths and a lie? Are you familiar?” 

Dean nods with a smirk. “If I catch the lie, what do I get?” 

“Whatever you want.” 

Dean sits up, his entire being focused on Cas. “Be careful, Cas.” The quiet, growled warning sends shivers down his spine. “Don’t offer what you aren’t willing to give.” 

In response, Cas pats the couch next to him. In the flickering candle light, his eyes are inky black; the wet slick of his just licked lips beckons like a lure. 

Dean sits, predator still, and waits. The bewitching grin on Cas’s face makes so many promises, and Dean is itching to cash in on them all. 

“Okay. I’ll go first. I can salsa dance. I’ve never been out of the state. I’m bisexual.” 

Dean leans against the back of the couch, elbow propping up his head. “You’ve been out of the state. I remember Sam telling me that you had to go to a wedding in Massachusetts this summer.” 

Cas’s eyes go wide momentarily. Busted. He feels a flush heat his face. Dean has been paying attention to him, to his life. It makes him want to purr in contentment. 

“You got me,” he admits. “What’s my punishment?” 

He drops his eyes as he asks, and hears the pained huff of air that Dean releases in response. This is turning out to be a very educational day. He thought he’d picked up on some Dom energy coming from Dean. Very good to know. 

Clearing his throat, Dean commands, “Take off your shirt.” 

Cas complies easily, stretching his arms high over his head as he does. The stretch of his lean muscles is delicious, almost as much as the surprise flash of metal piercing his nipples. 

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groans. There’s yet another tick in the ‘Hell, yes’ column. He rubs his hand over his jaw, hoping to collect his wits and any drool that might be leaking out of his mouth. As he shifts to make his tight crotch more comfortable, he takes his turn. 

“Okay, my truths and my lie.” He meets Cas’s eye with definite hunger. “I’m a huge fan of nipple piercings. I’m moving here for a new job. I have a small cock.” 

Cas laughs at that last one, especially with the way Dean pops the ‘C’. The look in his eyes dares Cas to believe his lie. 

Biting his lip, unsure how much to reveal, he decides to be daring. “I know you don’t have a small cock, Dean.” 

“Really? How do you know that, Cas?” His tone is playful, intrigued, and Cas is melting at this side of Dean. 

“I might have been paying attention when you wore boxers around the apartment.” His admission makes his cheeks burn, but it’s the least mortifying thing he could say in this instance. 

Dean hums his approval. His hand strokes over his groin, showing Cas a very clear outline that confirms Dean had lied about his size. Cas feels a ghost caress over his own cock, want digging its claws into his soft belly. He manages to hold back a whimper, but just barely. 

“What do you want, Cas?” 

He looks up at Dean’s face then, realizing that he had never stopped staring at Dean’s crotch. He tilts his head to the side, confused by Dean’s question. 

Dean grins around the lip of the beer bottle and then asks again. “You won, Cas. What do you want?” 

“Oh. I suppose turn about is fair play.” His voice, normally so deep and gravelly, seems almost breathy. 

Setting the bottle down, Dean watches him as he pulls his soft shirt over his head. Cas tries to look at everything Dean unwraps, but there’s so much to see. Dean is in spectacular shape, and his body is art. Seeing his tan skin glow from the light of multiple flames makes the view even more spectacular, lending dramatic shadows to all of his dips and divots. Cas looks his fill, sighing happily after a few moments. 

Dean chuckles. “It’s your turn, sweetheart.” 

Cas loves hearing the term of endearment on Dean’s lips. He schools his features into a mask of innocence. 

“Alright. I was born in a car. I can speak Russian. I lost my virginity when I was 21.” 

Dean lets a smug grin creep up. “You might win if you didn’t tell me lies that are ridiculous, you know.” 

Cas pulls his knees up under his chin. “Which one was the lie?” 

“You were not a virgin until you were 21.” 

Cas shakes his head. “No, that’s actually true. I wasn’t born in a car, though.” 

Dean sits gob smacked. “How? Cas, you’re gorgeous. You’re too fucking sexy for your own good. How did you never...” 

He trails off, still in denial while Cas blushes at the praise. “I...uh. I had domineering parents that kept a close eye on me in high school. Pre-med was a bitch, so I hardly ever socialized. It wasn’t on my radar, I suppose.” 

Dean seems troubled by his announcement still. He’s blinking in dismay and looking at Cas like he needs to right a wrong. 

Cas teases, “I’m all caught up now. I’ve tried everything. I know what I like. Everything’s good.” 

Dean clears his throat and nods in understanding. "I lost. What do you want?” 

Silence stretches between them while lightning strobes even through the metal that is covering the windows. Cas looks unsettled, twitchy and unsure of himself. Dean puts a hand on his knee and rubs his thumb gently across it. 

“Tell me, Cas.” 

“I want you,” he admits. His heart is bumping harshly in his throat, panic at his brazenness lights his nerves on fire. 

Dean doesn’t answer. Not with words. He takes Cas’s hand and tugs him closer, his eyes hooded and filled with desire. He pulls Cas to his chest, arranging his legs to straddle his lap. He stills for two agonizing heartbeats, giving Cas time to change his mind, before he unleashes himself. His restraint was already in tatters, but now he gives it license to snap. 

Wrapping his hands around Cas’s waist and the back of his neck, he gets rid of any space between their bodies as he crashes his lips into Cas’s. They both moan at the finally there connection. Cas is stunned by the intensity of Dean’s lust. He is swept away by it, overcome and undone. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean pants when he comes up for air. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” 

“Me too.” One hand digs into Dean’s hair, the other slides around his shoulders for leverage. 

There will be time for talk later, Dean rationalizes when he licks into Cas’s mouth again. The need is too urgent, his brain too addled. Cas is rocking wide figure-eights in his lap and he is helpless not to match his rhythm. Feeling the cooler metal of Cas’s piercings rub against his chest makes him shudder. He has to feel them on his tongue. Immediately. 

Cas gasps on a curse as Dean sucks his nipple into his mouth and worries it with his talented tongue. “Fucking hell, Dean.” 

Dean growls at the sharp sting of Cas pulling his hair. His hand drops from his waist to curve over the thick globes below. 'Damn, but his ass is perfect,' Dean thinks. He can’t wait to get his cock inside him. 

Harsh, panting breath competes with the howling wind outside. Cas lets his head drop back as he focuses on the powerful sensations Dean is orchestrating. 

“How far,” Dean asks, heaving lungs barely getting the sounds out. His hips are working in perfect sync with Cas’s, both of them chasing that perfect high together. 

“Wha?” Cas’s labored breathing makes his kiss-swollen lips stay parted, and Dean can’t resist tasting them. They get lost in the wet paradise of their mouths until they are forced to part to breathe. 

“I need...limits. What are your limits?” 

Cas answers with action. He slips back onto his feet to push his pants down to the ground. Dean has his jeans undone and slipped under his ass as soon as Cas’s movements register. Cas tugs them the rest of the way down and climbs back in Dean’s lap. Dean hisses at the slide of his cock against Cas’s. He can’t look yet. He has to close his eyes to the perfection and try to calm himself. 

“No limits. I want everything, Dean. 

Dean's head snaps up with amazement clear on his face. He searches Cas’s face with wonder, which fades into impish glee. He grabs Cas’s cock firmly with his own, stroking as he continues to snap his hips up. 

“Everything, Cas? Will you let me suck your cock? Can I bury my tongue between your ass cheeks until I have you writhing and begging? Will you let me fuck you, baby?” 

Desperate moans, agonized and needy, escape from Cas’s lips. He nods with a furrowed brow, trembling with want, and need, and supplication. 

Dean turns him tenderly onto his back on the couch. Before he can ask, Cas points a flailing hand towards another drawer in the coffee table. 

Inside, he finds lube, condoms, and some interesting toys that they will have to try out later. Not this time. Cas isn’t the only one shaking and feeling a critical need for release. “You really did plan ahead,” Dean teases. “Were you hoping we’d be alone together?” 

“Since the day I met you,” Cas admits, too far gone to deal with teasing. His hand grips Dean’s arm to offset some of the urgency as he pleads with him to hurry. “Now, Dean. Please. Don’t make me wait anymore. Please.” 

Dean shushes him, opening a condom and sliding it on quickly. “I’m going to take excellent care of you. I’ll fuck this desperation out of you so that we can be clearheaded when I worship your body later.” 

Without waiting for a reply, Dean spreads Cas’s thighs to an obscene angle, pulling on his center. He flips open the cap of the lube, drizzles it along his sheathed cock, and drips it onto Cas’s tight little knot of muscle. As he rubs it in, he feels a tiny bit of give. “How much prep do you need, sweetheart?” 

Cas shakes his head. “Lube and go slow.” 

“Oh fuck. That is really... Are you sure? I don’t want this to hurt.” Dean can’t believe that Cas wants to let him in without being stretched. He’s never been with anyone who liked it that tight. Christ. He might embarrass himself after all. 

“I like the burn, Dean. Trust me. I want to feel every little bit of your fat cock shoving its way into me.” 

He almost chokes. Instead, he makes a very dignified squeak at what comes out of Cas’s filthy mouth. 

When he guides the flared head to his hole, he pushes. Nothing happens. Cas coerces, “Harder, Dean. Take me.” 

Putting more strength into it, slipping around in the lube, Cas’s hole finally gives way and lets him in. They both curse and pant at the tightness. “Goddamn, Castiel. This is too much. Too fucking tight. One stroke and I’m going to pop like a champagne bottle.” 

Cas meets his gaze with steely determination. “No, you won’t. You’ll make this good for both of us. I know you will.” 

With that kind of encouragement and expectation, how can he not? Dean sinks into Cas slowly, letting the stretch determine how deep he can go. At every stopping point, he grinds, persuading Cas’s body to loosen up and give him entrance. More quickly than he can fathom, he’s resting balls deep in Cas, his rim fluttering around him as it tries to either pull him deeper, or push him out entirely. Dean is mesmerized by the connection of their bodies. 

Cas sighs and lets his hands drop over his head. He braces them on the arm of the couch and clenches hard around Dean’s cock. Dean's eyes snap up as he gasps. When he sees that Cas is waiting for something, his brain comes back online. Right. Fucking. 

He still isn’t loose enough, so Dean thrusts slowly, changing the angle each time to help the process along.  
After he finally gets his feet under him metaphorically, he drags Cas’s hips higher into his lap and snaps his hips hard. When Cas arches his back off the couch on a hoarse shout, Dean zeroes in on hitting the same spot over and over with single-minded focus. 

“Oh god, fuck!” Cas slaps his hand against the back of the couch while his eyes roll back in his head. “So good, Dean. So fucking good. Oh shit. I’m close.” 

Cas’s voice goes higher and wispier with every word. 

“Give it to me, Cas. I want you to come for me, baby.” 

“Yes, yes, yes!” Cas locks up and ribbons of pearly white arc up to land all over his stomach and chest. Dean lifts his hips and fucks him with the longest, slowest strokes possible, until Cas's cock is spent. 

Leaning over his belly, Dean licks up every drop of his come that he can reach. Cas feels like his heart and brain might explode at the sheer blistering heat of this man. 

Dean uses languid strokes, grinding deep into Cas when he pushes in. He moans every time, sometimes they form around words and sometimes not. “Cas, you are so beautiful. I can’t believe how good you feel. Absolute bliss. This is heaven.” 

His next thrust sends him slipping into oblivion, and he comes, straining into his release. 

When his vision clears, he looks down at Cas and they share a joyful laugh. Dean pulls out gingerly. Even after an orgasm, Cas is so tight. After disposing of the condom, they melt into fucked out kisses, dropping their fingers into caressing touches along each other’s bodies. 

Cas pulls back first. “Did you say that you were moving here?” 

Dean chuckles against his chest. “Yes, about an hour ago.” 

Cas makes a rude noise and then chuckles. “I’ve been a little distracted, Dean.” 

“So, when is that happening?” 

“In about two months. I had my final interview before I showed up here.” 

“Which hospital?” 

“University of Miami.” 

Cas meets his eye with a contented smile. “We’re going to working together?” 

Dean nods and they drift back into lazy kisses. 

“Do you...would you like to go out to dinner or something when I get back?” 

Cas narrows his gaze sharply. “Would I...I hope you didn’t think that this was a casual fuck, Dean Winchester!” 

His eyes go wide. “I just asked you out. That is the exact opposite of a casual fuck. I intend to date you, Cas, for as long as you’ll have me. I just didn’t want to assume.” 

Cas is placated, but it takes him a minute to unruffle his feathers. Thinking back over the afternoon’s events, he grins. “Do you think we ever would have gotten to this point if we hadn’t been locked in together?” 

Dean kisses him soundly. “Probably not for a long time. We’re both a couple of dumbasses. I guess we have Dorian to thank.” 

*****

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


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